


Adamantine

by ohmyflavors (hannibae)



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 11:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12911280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibae/pseuds/ohmyflavors
Summary: They don’t dance around things anymore, letting sentences finish instead of hanging by a thread, the last couple of damning words dangling, hot and heavy, in front of them like live bombs.





	Adamantine

They aren’t careful.

They used to be. Good gracious, they used to be—with words, with touches, with _looks_. But they aren’t anymore.

And he doesn’t really know why or what changed. All he knows is somewhere down the line, they stopped trying so hard.

He isn’t going to outright say that they’re better like this, but they’re better like this.

When Rhett looks over at him, he doesn’t have to look away, pretend like he didn’t see. He can let his hand fall to Rhett’s thigh, squeeze to let him know that he saw. In return, he’ll get a cheeky, bashful smile instead of furrowed brow and a hand slapping his away.

They don’t dance around things anymore, letting sentences finish instead of hanging by a thread, the last couple of damning words dangling, hot and heavy, in front of them like live bombs.

Rhett slips his hand in Link’s own, and instead of pretending it doesn’t immediately feel like everything is finally slotting into place at last, he can rub his thumb along the back of Rhett’s hand in confirmation.

He makes little noises now. Rhett calls them his old man noises, but they’re happy noises, content noises. Hums and sighs and all the notes those trapped birds in his chest were singing to deaf ears all those years. They fill the room around them, flutter about, until Rhett is grabbing his guitar and strumming along, matching the pattering of Link’s heart beat for beat.

At the end of the day, they fall into each other, more like a home than any four walls could ever be for either one of them. It’s easy. It’s good. It’s nice.

It’s right.

And Rhett lets him mutter nice things into his chest while they rest, too big on a too-small couch that holds all of their secrets. He says things like, “You’re real comfortable,” and “Can I rub against you a little bit?” and “Want a handjob?” that all get lost in Rhett’s chest.

The answers always vibrate out of him in one of Rhett’s own happy noises—a laugh, a gasp, a rumble of vowels that’s supposed to be something nice right back at Link. He catches them in his palm laid flat on the expanse of him, trying to see if he can will his pulse to match the vibrations.

There’s a whole lifetime spread out before them.

But right now, Rhett is spread out before him, long limbs akimbo as Link presses wet kisses down his chest. His teeth catch a nipple, two of his fingers twist inside of him, and his own cock twitches when Rhett lets out a high whine of, “Gosh, Link.”

It’s a prayer soaked in sweat and etched in gold. Link swallows it down with a kiss to Rhett’s lips, moving too fast, reveling in the feeling of Rhett arching against him. This is a power trip, having Rhett like this.

They stopped being careful a long time ago, but Link is still careful with Rhett. He’s gentle when he crooks his fingers up inside of him. He’s kind when he says, “You’re so beautiful.” He’s sweet when he licks into Rhett’s mouth, tongue looking for more sounds, for more praise.

It comes to him in the form of Rhett’s hands finding their way to Link’s shoulders, his fingers digging in, silently asking for more of that kindness. Link pulls away from him with a smile, rubs at his rim with his thumb just to watch how he squirms, feel how he tenses around him. He tells him, “Greedy.”

“Come on,” Rhett begs, the words dripping out of him in ribbons. They twist around Link’s ribs, nestle inside until he gives in, pulls his fingers free and slicks his cock. “ _Yeah_.”  

“I know,” Link promises.

But he teases, because he can, slips the head of his cock over where Rhett’s stretched and slick, presses inside just far enough to stretch him some more, to coax a soft sound from him. It’s another prayer, slicker and filthier than the last one, and Link pulls away from him.

Sometimes he’s not so careful.

Sometimes, he likes to push at Rhett’s veneer, see just how nasty he can get. He chokes on a sob, lets his head fall back, body stretching out, miles long. Link runs his free hand from the jut of his hips to the center of his chest, drumming his fingers along the freckles he finds there. When he rubs his cock over him again, Rhett lets out a gasp, tries pressing his hips up.

“Remember the first time we did this?”

Rhett doesn’t answer him, his body trembling just a little bit. Link bites his bottom lip, tugs at Rhett’s arms where they’ve moved to cover his face.

“Come on, man, look at me,” Link tells him. “Watch me.” 

As soon as Rhett’s eyes meet his own, half-lidded and desperate, Link presses inside. The head of his cock sinks inside him, and he holds, waits.

And when Rhett’s mouth drops open around Link’s name, he smiles, bottoms out in one long, careful thrust.

God, he watches the way that Rhett’s chest expands, how he twists against the sheets, feels his legs pulling him closer. His fingers splayed on his chest, he feels him hum, groan, and then ask, “Fuck—just fuck me, Link, come on.”

This time, it isn’t a prayer. It’s too gritty and dirty to be one, slurring out of his own mouth like he’s been given absolution already.

Link fucks into him a little harder, proving a point from earlier. “When did you turn into such a greedy boy, Rhett?”

“The first time we did this,” Rhett teases, smiling up at Link.

They aren’t careful anymore. And Link’s fingers dig into Rhett’s thighs at that, at how his tongue comes out, licks at his bottom lip, eyes falling shut as Link quickens his pace, rocks his hips into him harder.

He pulls out all the way, the blunt head of his cock resting at his hole.

Rhett groans, and Link swoops down to see what it tastes like. Fucking his tongue into Rhett’s mouth at the same moment he presses back inside with his cock, slow and kind and sweet. And this time, when Rhett groans, it pitches up at the end, shocked and in love.

Link keeps the pace like that, sweet as honey, slow as molasses, and he kisses Rhett deep and hard.

Rhett tells him, “I love you,” and “Gosh, Link, just like that,” and “Fuck, your cock feels huge.”

Link tells him, “Yeah, baby.”

Hot breath dances along his neck, rough and loud, and Link reaches down to wrap his hand around Rhett’s cock. He’s hard and leaking, working his hips down against Link’s thrusts.

They aren’t messy with each other, but Link makes a mess of Rhett, feeling him twitch in his hand, clench down around his cock, fisting his hand in Link’s hair to tug him down and muffle his gasp against Link’s lips as he comes. Under Link’s fingers, his heart beats rapidly, his lungs work in short, heavy pants.

“Yeah,” Link pants, feeling the threads of his composure untwine. “Shit, Rhett.”

After a beat, a pause, Rhett is lax against the bed, breathing heavy, plaint and warm, and he says, “Gonna come inside me?”

His hips stutter. So does his heart, tripping over its own beat, trying desperately to match the one under his hand.

He comes like that, mouth falling open, Rhett arching against him again like he can’t get enough.

Later, he presses back into Rhett with two fingers, curls in close, and presses open-mouthed kisses down his spine while Rhett murmurs filth and praise into the empty space of the room.

And they aren’t careful, not with each other.

Not anymore.


End file.
